


Happiest Year of my Life

by OofBoost



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Car Accidents, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Memory Loss, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OofBoost/pseuds/OofBoost
Summary: Sometimes, when you wake up in the morning, you don’t remember what you were thinking about the night before.Other times, you wake up, and don’t remember who you are.Something is going on up inside Dreams head, and the clock ticks while the best efforts are made to fix it. Time will only tell if it’s enough.-/-Or; Dream gets in a car accident and suffers memory loss, but it’s not the only problem he has to worry about.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 212





	1. Stare. Count. Forget.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not real. I do not wish for any of these things to happen to anyone involved in the piece, it’s purely for me to exercise my writing skills with previously existing individuals. 
> 
> If any of the people involved in this story express any sort of discomfort with writing them as such, I will more than gladly apologize and take this down.
> 
> That being said, considering these are REAL people, I don’t feel comfortable writing them in relationships that they are not already in or writing sexual content. All relationships are purely platonic.
> 
> Once again, this is so I can focus on my writing and work on better developing it, so I don’t have a schedule for uploading. I’m uploading in hopes others can provide me with some advice and constructive criticism. 
> 
> The Title is based off the song “Happiest Year” by Jaymes Young.

When I was a kid I used to count stars instead of sheep. I’d spend endless nights staring from my window, counting as many lights in the sky as I could. Once morning came, I would never remember the number I had counted to and decided I needed to try again the next night. My parents eventually bought these glow in the dark stars and placed on my ceiling for me and at first I counted them too. To this day I still remember there being exactly 17 stars. Although, it wasn’t the real thing, so I found myself coming back to the window to stare, count, and forget.

** Stare. Count. Forget. **

Now that I’m older I’ve found sleep harder and harder to fall into. A simple count of the stars just won’t do the trick anymore. Instead, I’ve found driving aimlessly is a great way to put my body and mind at ease. 

Although, I don’t trust myself to drive at night when my intentions are to sleep. There’s too high of a risk that I fall asleep at the wheel, and I’m not willing to take part in that risk. Instead, I just walk around the block.

It’s far safer and the chances of me getting in a vehicular accident is slim to none, considering I’m not even on the road. The chances are low, but never zero.

** Stare. **

I like to play games with myself when I go on walks like these. I look intently at the lines along the sidewalk that divide sectors of the path. Sometimes I avoid stepping on these lines entirely while other times I make it a rule that they’re the only things I can touch. Sometimes I only allow one foot in a square at a time, sometimes two must touch the square before I can move on to the next.

  
These silly little games keep me busy and my mind occupied. Almost too much, because I don’t notice the glare in the corner of my eye until it’s a few yards away.

The light it bright and I can almost not tell if it’s coming closer or just getting brighter? I can’t quite tell what it is either. All I can do is stare at it.  


  
All I do is stare at it.

** Count. **

I blink and when I open my eyes I’m on the ground and my ears are ringing. The world around me spins and pulses out of my control. I try and roll to my side to get up but find the discomfort and pain unbearable in doing this, so I allow myself to fall back on to the ground.

I can’t really tell where I am or what has happened, but all I know is that there is immense pain somewhere in my being that I can’t quite pinpoint. I do my best to ignore it, but my mind it far too focused on it. I need a distraction. 

I look up and try my hardest to focus my vision and in doing so my hearing clears up slightly as well. I can hear metal but I can’t tell what it’s doing. Not long after, I begin to hear sirens as well. The pain at the same time begins to throb and I look up at the night sky.

The stars seem brighter than usual tonight. The small sparkling dots in space make beautiful pictures and unique patterns as if a child where scribbling on the galaxy. 

I begin to finally feel myself grow tiresome, as I had wished half an hour ago. I smile slightly and before allowing myself to drift off, I begin to count the stars.

_ 1...2...3... _

My breathing shallows and I feel the cool light from the moon burn against my skin. It’s oddly comforting to say the least.

_ 8...9...10... _

The sirens are getting closer but I can’t be bothered to care. They were merely a grain of sand compared to the beauty above my head and in front of my eyes.

_ 14...15...16 _

The sirens are closer and closer. I feel a change in the atmosphere around me. The air changes. I hear different sounds, but can’t identify them. I feel different things, but can’t pinpoint where on my body I am feeling them. I see blurs of color or the edges of my eyes, but I stay staring at the stars as they too begin to blur.

_ 17... _

I can’t count any longer. I can’t think simple thoughts. My mind was fuzzy and my sight unclear. My ears try blocking out any noise, muffling voices around me. I can’t feel or see or hear and if I can’t do any of those things then what point was there in being awake. I was feeling tired anyways.

**Forget.**

As I slowly drift off in the river of my mind I realize I once again have forgotten how many stars I’ve counted. And this time, I’m not sure I’ll be given a chance to count again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more chapters planned and already written, but I’m waiting to see feedback on the first chapter so I can make changes to the other chapters and improve my style. If you have any advice, please share. 
> 
> That aside, I hope everyone is having a good day. :D


	2. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream wakes up after the accident, but with a few unpleasant side effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know anything about Dream’s personal life besides what he has told us, and from certain tweets I’m assuming he has a Mom, Dad, 2 sisters, and a brother. We don’t know their names, so I looked up most common names from years they could have grew up in, and that shall be their names, but their names aren’t honestly used until later.

Waking up without recalling falling asleep in the first place is an odd sensation to say the least. Then again, that was the least of my worries seeing as I couldn’t seem to remember  _ anything _ .

It’s an uncomfortable feeling. A unique, but disgusting grind of my fibers. I knew what I was on was a hospital bed, I knew I was living on planet Earth that orbits the Sun, I knew the beeping in my ears was from my heart monitor, but I didn’t know  _ how  _ I knew these things. There was knowledge inside my brain that I don’t recall putting there. I knew nothing but at the same time had lost no basic knowledge.

It occurred to me that I should probably try and signal for help or alert a worker that I was conscious. I tried waking my body up more but found it tiring to move. I opened my mouth to speak and was met with a rough scratch that made me favor the smooth spots in my throat. I coughed and hacked harder and harder, trying to get it out, but I made absolutely no progress.

Distantly I could hear voices but it wasn’t until they were right beside me could I make them out over the sound of my wretched chokes and panicked thoughts.

“Clay, Clay, listen, we’re gonna take the tube out now, Ok?”

An unfamiliar voice spoke. 

“3...2...1.”

I registered that hands were on me and sounds were being made. Voices and beeps and breathing all mixed together with the pressure being relieved from my throat, only for me to cough the remaining roughness out of my vocal cords. My breathing was heavy and congested, but I definitely felt better. 

“Clay, can you hear me? I need you to show me that you can hear me.” The same voice requested.

I was slightly angered. I just had a giant plastic tube removed from my throat and now he wanted _more_? Nonetheless, I tried to signal. The most I could do was a broken groan and more heavy breathing. Thankfully, that was all he needed.

“Perfect, perfect. You’re doing great. Can you wiggle your toes for me?” I did as he requested with a bit more ease. “Perfect. Now can you make a fist?” I once again did as I was told, this time far less strain on my muscles. “You’re doing good, Clay. Now, can you open your eyes?”

I really didn’t want to. The room was already far too bright and my eyes were still closed, I didn’t want to blind myself even further. I just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up when everything made sense again.

“C’mon, Clay. Just open your eyes, buddy.” That same persistence voice was there.

I was annoyed, so I figured I’d please them. I pride my eyelids apart and squinted hard until I could adjust to the light. Blinking and squinting seemed to do minimal help, but I was eventually in the clear. A lot of the stuff around me was blurry, as if I were underwater, but it only took another few moments to clear up. I began to understand who was in the room with me.

The man beside my bedside must be the Doctor, and the two women behind him with clipboards must be Nurses of some sort. There were other people too. An older man, older woman, two young female adults and a young male adult. They dressed casually so I had no indications as to who they were. 

“Welcome back, Clay. Welcome back.” The man next to me chuckled with a smile.

“Back?” I questioned, as if I had gone somewhere? My throat wasn’t as clean as I’d like, but I managed to speak with what I had, realizing I couldn’t do much more, “May I have some water?” I asked before the Doctor could reply to my question. 

“Of course.” The Doctor nodded to one of the Nurses who left for a moment before coming back with a plastic cup of water. I graciously gulped down the liquid and cleansed the pockets of air drying on the inside of my throat. I would definitely be needing more water soon, but it felt refreshing in the moment.

“We  _ do  _ need to run some physical and psychological tests to determine the extent of some trauma, but I’d imagine you’re more than overwhelmed at the moment. I’ll leave you with your family and we can get working of getting you better soon after.” He smiled and followed the two Nurses out.

So, these five people were my family? It made sense. Older woman was my Mom, older man was my Dad, the young adults were my siblings? 

It might be best I mention that I can’t seem to remember anything, but I could be wrong. Maybe I’m still waking up and I just need to give it a few minutes? Maybe it’s a side effect from the drugs they have me on? I don’t want them to be hurt more than they obviously already have from my accident—that I know _nothing_ about. So, I figured I’d play it off as if I knew it all.   


Not a good plan.

“Clay, how are you feeling?” The woman, my Mom I’m assuming, immediately walks forward with a solemn look on her face that I despise. She seems like such a sweet woman, the last thing I want was for her to feel this way.

“A little sore, but I’m Ok.” I smile at her.

I learned two things in that moment; a smile really signs, seal, delivers the entire package, and I know how to lie very well.

I wasn’t in  _pain_ necessarily, but I wasn’t comfortable either. The joints in my left knee, below and above, seemed to pinch a bundle of nerves whenever I moved it or even  _thought_ of moving it. Upon looking down it made sense, considering pins and bars stuck inside of me, mostly covered up with wrap and blankets. But no number of blankets could cover the pain I felt in my head. The pain in my leg, the ache in my arm, the burn in my hand, none of it could compare to the throbbing sensation inside my brain. I like to imagine my pain tolerance is quite high, but something tells me otherwise.

“You gave us all one helluva scare, buddy.” The man—my Dad—pats the bed, seemingly too scared to touch me, as if I were glass.   


Perhaps I was.

I nervously chuckled, “Sorry.”

“Do you remember anything before the accident?” The girl I’m assuming is my sister asks me. 

“Honestly? Not really. Could you guys explain to me what happened, exactly?” I ask kindly, still careful to not reveal my lack of memory.

“You, um, you got hit by a car.” My brother, I think, explained. I felt as if there was some information he was withholding, but it honestly didn’t seem that important to bargain for. I just nodded lightly.

“Are you sure you feel Ok, Clay?” My Mom asked once again. I could tell she was asking something else, almost as if she wanted permission to start a conversation related to a different topic. I felt anxiety grow in the pit of my stomach thinking of keeping this lie any longer, so I shut that down immediately.

“Actually, I _am_ pretty tired.” I nervously chuckled, “Seems like I’ve been asleep for a while but I’m ready to go back to bed.”

“Yeah, you’ve been asleep for a few days.” I could tell my other sister danced around the word, ‘coma’. 

“Well, why don’t we let you get some rest. It’s fairly late, so we’re gonna grab some dinner and head home. We’ll see you first thing tomorrow.” My Mom smiled, my Dad and sister following soon after.

And with that they were gone. 

There were so many emotions inside of me that I knew I needed to address, but at the same time I didn’t want to. I just wanted to fall asleep and wake up when everything felt right. 

I inhaled a shaky breath and exhaled sharply, softly closing my eyes before looking at my surroundings. I don’t like it here. I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Then again, I don’t like that way  _I_ make me feel. 

Instead of letting myself think another single thought, I closed my eyes anddozed off, imagining myself drifting with the stars and planets in our galaxy. 

Far away from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the comments on my previous chapter. Please let me know what you think about this chapter. The writing style is very similar but the way I personally went about it was different for me, so we’ll see which one is more efficient.
> 
> Good news; I have all the chapters planned out.
> 
> Bad news; I haven’t decided which outcome I want. Sad outcome or happy outcome, guess we just gotta wait and see :/


	3. Who Am I? Jesus?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream reveals his lack of memory to someone important, but struggles to listen to their advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Dream’s last name to be ‘Maine’ because it’s A) a moderately common last name and B) close to the Arabic word for Block lol. 
> 
> I understand Dream’s actual last name got leaked on Twitter a week or two ago, but I don’t know his real last name nor would I like to. Please do not comment his real last name as it shouldn’t be spread any more than it already has. Thank you :D

Early in the morning—before my family could arrive—my Doctor insisted on doing some tests. I had all intentions to inform him of my loss of memory, but at this point it was simply a game I was playing with myself and I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to see how long I could keep this up for. 

How good  _ was _ I?

“ _Mr. Maine_? Mr. Maine, I asked you a question, are you alright?” 

A voice grabs my attention as I focus in on my Doctor in front of me. He seems slightly concerned but mostly intrigued. I decide to humor both him alongside myself.

“Yeah, just a little tired, ironically. What did you ask?” I tried being polite and witty, but with my worn-down state I likely looked pathetic.

“I asked you what you’re name was? I’m doing a basic routine questionnaire.” He explained gently. 

I nodded and allowed myself to scour my brain for knowledge of my name.  _ ‘Mr. Maine’  _ So I know my last name is Maine, but what is my first name? He must’ve said it at some point yesterday. Or perhaps my family did? 

What was it?

What was my name?

“Sir?” He grabbed my attention once again.

“Clay Maine. My name is Clay Maine.” I said a bit too enthusiastically. I was merely excited I managed to remember  something .

“Good, good. Do you know the year?”

Like hell if I knew what year it was.

Nonetheless, I secretly examined the room for some clues. Nothing on the door. Nothing on the window. Nothing on my bed. Nothing on the chairs. 

The bathroom, although, had a chart for the day that included my Nurse, my Doctor, my treatment, my schedule, and the date.

“2020.” I responded with more calmness.

“Excellent. Who is our current President?” 

We have a President? How was I supposed to know? I don’t even know where I am. 

I searched the room once again, _pleading_ for a sign. I was never religious, but I was praying right now. I just needed _some_ indication on what name to say. An article, or phone, or computer, _anything_ that might have news on it. He’s surely in that.

Alas, there was nothing.

“I don’t really follow politics.” I answer nervously. I can feel his skepticism.

“You don’t know who the President is because you don’t follow politics?” He reiterated, only reinforcing how stupid my excuse sounded. 

I nodded lightly. He set his clipboard down and looked me in the eyes, and I knew I was in for a ride. The gig was up. Although, I do commend myself for lasting as long as I did. It allowed me to get to know myself a little better, and I’m thankful for that.

“Mr. Maine, can you tell me what state you’re in?”

The state of confusion.

“Uh, Iowa?”

Of _all_ the damn states, I picked Iowa. What the hell?

“Mmhmm, and your parents’ names?”

“Joesph and Mary.”

What am I? _Jesus_?

“Mr. Maine, I would like you to know that memory loss is a very common side effect with those who’ve experienced head trauma. It’s nothing to be ashamed of or fear. _In fact_ , in most cases it clears up within a few days to a week.” The Doctor attempted to consul me. At this point there was no real reason to continue with the facade, he had already figured it out.

“I’m sorry, sir.” I bowed my head slightly. More ashamed that I had kept this from a professional trying to help me than anything else.

“It’s gonna be alright, Clay. It might come in spurts or it may all come back at once, but I promise you that we will do everything in our power to make sure your memory comes back.” I felt slightly better after hearing this.

“Please don’t tell my family.” I asked kindly. He seemed sad upon hearing this.

“I guess,  _legally_ ,  I don’t have to tell them, seeing as you’re _my_ patient and you’re above the age of 17. Although, I do recommend you tell them. It’ll make the healing process easier.”

“Yeah, but you said I’d get my memory back anyways.” I argue with his suggestion.

“Yes, it is likely. Although, you have what I’m assuming to be a type of dissociative amnesia, since you don’t seem to recall any personal information. It will be far quicker to regain these memories by exposing you to those you forget.”

I know what he’s saying makes sense. I know I should tell my family if I want my memory back sooner, but at the same time, I simply can’t. I can tell they’ve been hurt so much by this experience and they seem like such great people that I can’t bare to hurt them any more. I can only imagine the pain on their faces when I tell them I can’t remember who they are. How could I do such a thing to some genuinely amazing people? I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t.

“I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very interested in the medical field, so if I ever write something that the common reader wouldn’t understand or would lose interest in, please tell me so I can understand where I need to stop.


	4. I Didn't Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream's started physical therapy alongside getting his memory back. This was supposed to fix his problems.
> 
> It had done anything but that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider these next few chapters the "calm before the storm" >:)

* * *

" _Whoa_ , hold on. You _definitely_ cheated that last one." Josiah catches me in the act.

"No, I _didn't_." I argue back purely for the sake of arguing.

In a couple days it'll mark 1 week since I've been in this Godforsaken Hellhole. Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful for what they've done for me and acknowledge all their hard work, but if I have to spend any second more than I have to chewing on cardboard-textured toast and watching the air pockets shift in my IV then I'm going to have an aneurysm. I just want to leave.

Josiah has made it slightly more manageable. He was assigned as my physical therapist yesterday and I've already grown closer with him than anyone else who works here. 

"Yes, you _did_ , Clay. I said stretch your fingers out, your fingers are still touching each other." He had a point. I _had_ cheated that last exercise, but you can't blame me. I needed some- _any_ form of entertainment that I could get.

"I don't remember you saying that." I grumble at him, hiding a smirk. I've used this excuse before, but I can't help and giggle at his response.

" _Nuh uh_ , you're not pulling that memory loss bullshit on me again. I read your file." He argued back and I giggled slightly, continuing the facade.

"Huh," I pretend to think hard and scratch my head, "that's weird, because I just can't seem to remember when I said I cared?" I smirk and him and watch his reaction.

" _Ohh_ , nice one, Clay. Nice one." He smiles too. "With that attitude I might just have you do it 10 more times."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No thank you. I don't want that." I chuckle slightly. In reality, I wouldn't mind. Anything that gives me one second more with Josiah and I would gladly take it. 

"Hold on," He begins to flip through papers on his clipboard, "Yeah, I can't find where I asked." He retaliates.

" _Ohh_." I laugh back. "You wound me, Josiah."

"Yeah, yeah. Do your exercises, Amnesia Boy." He motions to the putty in my hand I had been fidgeting with. I follow his directions and try once again, "Speaking of memory; got anything new since this morning?"

"Yes, actually." I didn't mind talking about my accident and memory with Josiah. He felt more like a friend than a staff member. "I remember doing this Minecraft video series with Sapnap and George while we kept x-ray on the entire time."

"That's awesome, Clay." He seemed genuinely happy for me and it felt nice.

"I can't remember all of it, just bits and pieces. It's still a little fuzzy, but it's new." I explain to him, starting on the next exercise.

"It's a start, that's what matters." He smiles, watching me exercise my muscles. "On that note, have you talked to your friends?"

I hesitate to answer. I haven't told anyone about my memory loss other than my staff. I haven't told anyone about the accident- other than the people that already knew. 

My family has offered to bring me in my phone and even my laptop, but I've declined. I know the longer I wait the more questions my friends will have, but I just couldn't face them like this. At first, I didn't even know who they were. Now that I do, I'm incredibly ashamed I've hid this from them. I'll likely contact them after I'm released, but until then, I'll be friends with Josiah.

"Not yet." I mutter, suddenly very focused on this exercise.

" _Clay_ …" I feel a lecture coming on. I'm _not_ in the mood for one.

"I know, I know. I'll talk to them once I'm out, I promise." 

"You _promise_?"

"I _promise_."

I promised.

Well, _shit_. 

* * *

[Photo Correlated to End Notes](https://images.app.goo.gl/GC3hsFGMUn91oJKeA)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw the Dream vs. Techno video, it was W I L D. If y'all haven't seen it, you should go watch it. :D
> 
> I should also prolly explain the therapy a little bit, in case it is confusing.
> 
> Often, after accidents, they start the injured person on small physical therapies as soon as possible as to not weaken the muscles while recovering. 
> 
> The exercise Dream is doing it to strengthen the tendons in your fingers as well as forearm. Putty is commonly used. They will roll it out and form and circle before placing it over their fingers to stretch it out, stretching out their tendons in the process. I hope this makes sense. 
> 
> If it does not, I have provided a picture.


	5. I Miss Patches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream is finally discharged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream’s siblings’ names are not Emily, Jacob, and Jessica. I just grabbed the most popular names from years ago and plugged them in, no correlation.

I can’t wait to leave.

I never understood what was so special about being “ _discharged_ ” from treatment. Why would someone be _so_ desperate to leave the help they needed? But, when the help you need is _constant_ observation in the _chance_ something bad happens, then boredom is a freedom expressed through creativity. 

In all fairness, I’ve picked up on the feeling that most of the staff is just as excited to see me go. I haven’t exactly been the most _tolerable_ patient. 

I’ve broken the recliner button on the bed at least twice by trying to push the up and down arrows at the same time, I’ve had my own drum session with sticks I found in a small cabinet, I’ve explored the Hospital with my IV Drip late at night with a sheet over my being in an attempt to scare the staff, I’ve stuffed at least three cotton balls into my mouth just for the hell of it, all events resulting in stern talks and nonsense warnings.

What were they gonna do to me anyways? Send me home? 

Although, I knew one person would miss my presence.

I’ve only ever been in a wheelchair perhaps once in my life, and that was to take me from the dentist to the car after my wisdom teeth removal. This time I had my Dad pushing me with my Mom close by and siblings following in front of us, talking amongst themselves. I haven’t been with my entire family all at once in a while. It was a nice feeling I hadn’t known I missed. I only wish it was under different circumstances.

“I just want to see Patches.” I comment as my Dad pushes me.

“Good to see you too, Clay.” My Mom chuckles. I smile but don’t comment.

“Your cat is spoiled, Clay.” My youngest sister mentions to me, obviously listening in on the conversation behind her.

“Why do you say that, Emily.” I smile through my words.

“She only drinks fresh water, she needs a pillow or something soft to sleep on, only eats a certain type of food; Clay, you have officially spoiled your cat.” I chuckle out loud at that, hurting my ribs a little so I let my laugh die down. I don’t stop smiling harder than ever.

“Could say that same thing about you, Emily.” My older sister comments back.

“Ohh!” My younger brother and I exclaim. Our parents are quick to hop in.

“That’s enough. Jessica, be nice; Clay and Jacob, don’t encourage them; Emily…” My Mom had to think of what she wanted Emily to do without being rude, but Jessica cut in before she could say anything.

“Shut up.” Jessica finishes.

“No!” My Mom exclaims while we all laugh at Jessica’s comment and my Mom’s reaction, even my Dad was laughing.

“Mr. and Mrs. Maine!” A voice is heard from behind us, calling out. My Dad turns around first, leaving me to face forward, not being able to tell who it was, but I knew just from the voice. I steered the wheels on the chair to turn around and smiled once again.

“Josiah.” I smile and watch him jog lightly over, some papers in his hands.

“I have something I forgot to give to Clay.” He mentions. My parents move aside in a gesture to allow him to give it to me. Josiah walks closer and holds out three pieces of paper to me.

The first one is a scribbled crayon drawing on yellow construction paper of my Minecraft character with a diamond sword in a block world. The next one is another one similar to the first, but with markers and slightly more dimensioned and detailed. This time I had diamond armor and was hiding behind a wall in the Nether. The last one is a sketch of a man with short, scruffed, hair and a mask that covered his entire face, drawn with a simple smiley face on it. It was so realistic, but so simplistic.

“What are these?” I looked up at him, happy beyond words could explain.

“The first one is from a little girl who started OT recently for her dysgraphia, the second one is another little girl who stops by once every few months for check-ups by CPS, and the last one is an older teen who has been in and out of our chemotherapy program since he was in elementary school. They make these drawings for us and I thought you would like some of them.” Josiah smiles, very pleased with the work of his patients.

“Thank you.” I smile, cherishing the drawings and looking back up at him.

“Stay out of trouble, Clay.” 

“You too, Josiah.”

With that, he was jogging back into the building and I was back with my family's presence, already forgetting the conversation we were having before. I didn’t mind, I was too involved with the drawings before me and how much meaning they held. Each stroke of a marker, each drag of a crayon, every dash of a pencil, it all added up to these perfectly made drawings I adored equally. 

I let my Dad help me into the car, but didn’t stop looking at the pictures until we had driven 25 or 30 minutes out. I began to recognize the neighborhood and wasn’t all pleased with where I assumed this was going.

“I thought we were going back to my place?” I questioned.

“Sweetie, you can’t even _walk_ on your own-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We had a deal. I stay home, don’t move much other than to get food and use the bathroom, and if I need something I call one of you. I even agreed to stay off my computer!”

“I know, I know, but you don’t understand-”

“What do you mean? This isn’t how a deal works. You can’t just decide that your solution was better and go with it in a situation where I can’t change it. That’s not fair.” I was getting heated, but knew I needed to calm down soon.

“Clay, your Mother’s right, you’re still healing. We just want to have you over at our place for a few days is all. It’s more or so for our own peace of mind than anything else.” My Dad interjects. I hadn’t realized how worked up I had gotten until I let out a huffed breath and let my muscles relax.

“Fine.” I agreed, obviously not pleased with my parents.

“We just want what’s best for you.” My Mom added on. I didn’t bother to respond. I didn’t want to get any further into this conversation that I already had. This was the point where I needed to take a step back and evaluate what I was thinking before I said something stupid; a skill I had been working on for months--years even.

“I’m the one that begged them to do it.” Emily leans over in the car and whispers to me. I look over at her with confusion and a feeling of betrayal. She seemingly understood this and went to explain, “I really like Patches.” She admits with embarrassment and I smile.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad afterall.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cherish this while you can. Angst is coming in the next chapter or at least the one after next. 
> 
> Also, feedback? Writing style critics? Motivation advice? New methods to try? I haven’t been able to upload recently or write as I’ve been pretty ill, but I’m feeling better and writing has helped me feel more like myself :D


	6. Statistics Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After far too long, Dream musters up the courage to talk to his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still alive

It’s said that the average person lies roughly once to twice a day—at  _ least _ . I’ve never been one to go against fact, but I’ve always been curious about the truth behind this bold statement. I even read once, that within a 10-minute conversation, the average person will lie twice without realizing it. In all honesty; I didn’t believe it.

I never liked becoming a statistic.

I’ve had access to my phone and laptop since I was discharged, but I haven’t done much with either. I’ve ignored my laptop entirely and turned the Wi-Fi off on my phone. I like to tell myself I turned Wi-Fi off so I could play games without ads, but I know I merely didn’t want to receive more missed messages than I already had. It had only been a week, but changes obviously needed to be made.

I swiped down on the right-hand corner of my phone and hovered my thumb over the three-ringed icon—pumping myself up to push it. I could feel my heart beat inside my chest and tried best I could to ignore it; I pushed it aside and focused back on the icon in front of me. I stare at it for almost 5 minutes; debating back and forth between clicking it.

Spoiler; I clicked it.

It takes a good couple minutes, but suddenly my phone is blowing up with notifications; 396 Discord messages from my friends collectively, 12 missed calls, and thousands upon thousands of tweets with my handle being referenced. A part of me knows this is merely the surface, but I already feel sick to my stomach.

I click on Discord and stare blankly at all the red bubbles on the left side; I can read the beginnings of some messages but decide to ignore most of them for now. I focus on a group chat that had George, Sapnap, Bad, and Antfrost—we had used it for the most recent Manhunt videos. This group wasn’t too big, but they each held an important role in my life as to who I was today; the comfort that came with talking to them would be the perfect way for me to ease back into the public eye.

Without thinking I click on the phone icon and allow it to ring. The chimes are familiar but almost nostalgic—as if I hadn’t heard it for years and it was bringing back memories of simpler times. Perhaps it was.

_ “Dream?!”  _ I hear the familiar voice of Sapnap boom through the other side. I realize I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I was—once again—acting without thinking. I had no plan on what to say or how to say it; my body froze and mouth locked shut. I pushed my cold hands against my burning face in an attempt to calm my bursting nerves of anxiety

“Uh, hello?” I finally mutter. My words are weak and feeble, but they are words nonetheless.

“Dream, is that you?” George joins the call and suddenly another person makes this seem harder and my room feel smaller.

“Yeah, it is.” I chuckle dryly; not a drop of confidence more than last time, but I doubt they care. They both seem too much in disbelief at my arrival and I honestly can’t blame them.

“Oh my God, dude. Where have you been?”

“What happened, man? Are you Ok?”

They’re both speaking at once and I try to register as much of their words as I can, but I knew the basics; they were confused. Who wouldn’t be? They were confused and concerned and frustrated and worried and I didn’t expect it to be any other way.

“I was sick”

I don’t know why I say that.

I had  _ every  _ intention to tell them as much of the truth as I could muster, but lying about my personal life was almost second nature to me at this point. Or—perhaps it wasn’t lying as much as it was withholding the complete truth?

I think of all the times I used those exact same words when I missed a day or two of school and didn’t want people to know the real reason. It has and always will be the most perfect excuse.

People are too timid; they don’t have the confidence or comfort to ask any further questions than that and thus accept it as the truth. I know I should feel guilty for taking advantage of their timid ways, but I couldn’t seem to care.

“How bad? You were gone for like 2 or 3 weeks, or something?” George immediately questions. I scoff in my mind; my friends weren’t like most people as they didn’t follow the same restrictions.

“Yeah, yeah,” I chuckle lightly and nervously, “Pretty bad. I got in a car accident, actually.” I admitted with embarrassment. Now that I was saying it out loud I realized how silly it sounded—how reckless it made me seem. I wanted to tell them it wasn’t my fault, but there was no fault to be addressed. It was an accident—nothing less and nothing more.

“That’s not being  _ sick _ , Dream.” Sapnap corrected.

“Yeah, that’s something else entirely.” George adds in.

“I know, I know. I don’t know, guys. Things have just been a mess recently.” I’m finally honest with them. There was so much I wanted to tell them that I began to overwhelm myself and found it easier to just keep quiet to avoid stress. I find this happening all too often. I simply have so much I want to talk about that I give up before even trying. The mere  _ thought _ of trying to explain myself was exhausting.

“Are you Ok? Er- I guess, are you  _ going _ to be Ok?” George is quick to ask. Sapnap doesn’t need to ask, I can tell he’s listening closely for the answer.

“I’ll be Ok. I’ve gone back to living with my parents for right now until I’m healed enough to live on my own.” I’m once again honest with them. I know they understand how disappointing it is for me to be living back with my parents. I had worked  _ so _ hard to pay for my own place, and was so proud I had been able to, and now I was back at square one.

“Healed? What exactly did you do, man?” Sapnap is eager to join in.

“I fractured my left fibula in two places, fractured my left ulna, broke two of my lower left ribs, and dealt some head trauma.” I gave them the whole deal; not holding back. “I had to get surgery on my leg, but my ribs and arm will heal all on their own in 4-6 weeks, given I don’t do anything else to them. My leg—on the other hand—may take up to 4-6  _ months _ . I’m going to physical therapy and should be better enough to move into my new place within a month or two.” I smiled through my last sentence, continuing with the details. There’s an air of silences that waves over my head before anyone speaks.

“Jesus Christ, Dream.” Sapnap comments quietly.

“I know, I know.” I nod awkwardly even though I know they can’t see me.

“How are you gonna address this to the fans?” George questions. I, too, have been wondering the same exact thing.

I take a deep breath before answering, “I don’t know. I didn’t really think that far ahead if I’m being honest here.” I chuckle.

“Holy shit.” Sapnap exclaims once again.

“Yeah.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.

Ever since this morning I’ve had this dull ache in the front of my skull, but have had enough willpower to push it aside. Suddenly—as if my brain were unpleased with the conversation—it began to throb more aggressively than I thought possible. I can feel the veins pump blood through my skull and find it aggressive to the touch. I try and push the pain down again, but there’s only so much I can take.

“Dream?” The familiar voice of BadBoyHalo is often comforting to me, but this time I find it merely another sound I cannot bear to handle. “Are you Ok?”

“Hospital. Got hurt.” I lessen my words in the hopes that I can focus more on suppressing the pain, but it’s for naught.

“What?! What happened?” Bad exclaims, his voice getting higher and my ears starting to ring.

“George and Sapnap can fill you in, I’ve got physical therapy I can’t miss.” I excuse myself from the call and quickly end it, letting them continue on how they please.

Instead, I rush over and push myself in the rolling black work chair to the corner of the room as fast as I can and lean over the trash can. The contents of blankness from not eating all day attempt to leave my digestion, but dry heaves are all that measure up. I can feel my stomach flipping and lurching, trying its damndest to push what it can out, but there’s nothing sufficient.

It hurts and it stings and it wrings my body out of any energy I might have had left in me. I find my eyes begin to tear up from the pushing and nose runs ever so slightly. My unharmed hand placed over my stomach does nothing more than assure me that my stomach is still in the same place it always has been.

After 3 long and tireless minutes of dry heaves, I pull back and wipe my tears and runny nose with my sleeve. I lean back in the chair and soak in the dull light above me. I planned on asking my Dad to change the lightbulb in this room, but after today; I don’t mind the dullness at all.

I just wish I could feel as the lightbulb does; instead of embodying the sun and all its might. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been practicing my writing skills in short stories rather than fan fiction recently and completely forgot about this piece. I recently remembered this and remembered I had a few chapters already written, so here is this and others are soon too come.


	7. Don’t miss it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting worse. It’s only a matter of time before...
> 
> Alas, Dream goes on.

Some days are better than others.

There are mornings I wake up with an extra spring in my step and a brighter smile on my face. My memory seems fresh and new and I like to pretend the accident never happened altogether.

Then there are nights I fade away with the flickering light above my head, staring at the blankness in my mind. I feel broken and old; I can’t seem to remember anything for the life of me. My name resides purely a myth hidden in the dictionary behind my mind and all my personal knowledge being locked away in its cage. I have lost the key. Perhaps that was the whole point.

My Doctor told me this would happen. He explained to me how infants need plenty of sleep due to their brain trying to process all the information being given. Although my brain differs from being underdeveloped like an infant, my neurological processing has been quite delayed. He told me not to be surprised if by the end of the day I begin to disassociate or forget many things. Surely not permanent, but I know it will happen.

Yeah, some days are better than others. Today doesn’t seem to be going in my favor.

“ _ Dream? _ Hello? You there?” Sapnap brings me back into reality. I realize I am on a call with friends and should probably be paying attention to the conversation at hand. I am aware of the trauma's possibility to affect a variety of things; my attention included; for the sake of my recovery, it’s in my best interest I try and maintain my focus best I can.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” I assure them.

“Hi.” George chuckles. He can be amused so easily.

“Hi,” I respond quickly. I speak a timid response, reflecting most of my greetings.

“We were talking about how you want to address this with your fans?” Bad informs me. He is found to be more understanding than he knows. I could write a novel on the kindness in this single man.

“Yeah, I don’t know, man.” I shake my head even though they can’t see.

“Do you want  _ us _ to do it for you?” George offers.

“No, no, no. I want-  _ need _ to do it myself. I’ll do it myself. I just- I need to think.” I politely reject the kind offer.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Sapnap jokes. I chuckle aimlessly but continue with my strayed thoughts.

“Do you wanna stream an explanation?” Sapnap suggests.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea. I just don’t know what I’m gonna say?” Everything remains a mess right now. I have so many thoughts inside my head and I can’t process them all at once. They are merely swimming around helplessly and I am building tiredness as a foundation.

“We can talk and plan that out today if you want? And you can stream tonight?” Bad offers collective help and the idea seems comforting.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I could do that.” I nod.

In truth, I did not process what Bad recommended. My head pounded once again and I felt the aftertaste of vertigo cleanse my body. The barely lit light in my room shined bright, mimicking the sun and the soft voices of my friends roared in my ears.

I needed the world to stop.

“Alright, we’ll talk about this in a minute. I’ll be right back.” I quickly leave the call.

I throw my headphones off and throw my phone to the other side of the bed. I close my eyes and try to calm down. Purely nothing comes out of these actions.

I know what to expect so I grab the trashcan I purposefully placed at the foot of my bed and grip tightly under my face. At first, my actions reside pointless, much like last time. Nothing but dry heaves come up. I don’t expect anything to, I’ve yet to eat much recently.

But, then bile starts to burn my throat with a scratchy feel. I don’t like feeling this way, but somehow relieving my body of its contents lessens my headache. I let this go on for the next minute before finally calming down.

I take deep breaths and manage to slow my breathing. Upon opening my eyes, I notice a contrast in the clear liquid in the basket. The color remained quite apparent, impossible to miss.

Soft streaks of red dashed across splotches of the basket. I tell myself I must have eaten something with red dye and experienced a bad reaction.

But, I  _ know _ what it is.

I  _ know _ what I did. 

**_Dream_ ** _ @Dream _

Hey, guys! I’m back :D I will explain everything regarding where I’ve been and what’s happening going forward in a stream on Twitch tonight. Don’t miss it! 8 PM EST

_ 4:04 AM 11/23/20 Twitter Web App _


	8. He Conquers Who Conquers Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally addressing the situation to his fans, Dream slowly begins to realize that recovery might be harder than he imagined.

Some things are better off on their own. 

It’s funny, really. Two things that are perfectly fine on their own may be harmful when put together. Two hydrogen atoms? Harmless. Two oxygen atoms? Nice, we love air. Two hydrogen atoms  _ with  _ two oxygen atoms? Drinking it or the interaction with an excessive amount of it  _ will _ cause damage. It truly is the epitome of ironic tragedy.

Perhaps I wasn’t good by myself—rather,  _ benign _ . Perhaps social media was the same way. The only thing I know for certain, is how it feels to be hydrogen peroxide.

“Is it on? Am I live?” I mess with a few controls as clicks from my mouse echo through my ears and pupils dart throughout the screen.

“Yeah, I think so.” Bad responds.

“More than likely. I haven’t gotten the notification, yet.” George adds.

“That’s just Twitch being stupid.” Sapnap confirms.

“Alright, I’m gonna wait for some more people to join.” I decide on.

“It typically takes like 5 minutes.” George explains and I nod.

I can already see the chat starting to run. A variety of messages ranging from  _ ‘Offline chat, let’s gooooo’ _ to  _ ‘DREAM?! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!’ _ and everything in between. It was overwhelming to say the least, and it wasn’t even a full house.

Within 3 minutes I was hitting 250k viewers and decided that would be enough. Whoever joined later would surely get word via twitter if not clips. 

“Hi. Hello. Hello, everyone.” I greet with a smile. It made me feel slightly better sitting in my chair and doing a stream. It felt familiar, yet not quite memorable. I can’t remember the last time I streamed for the life of me, but that didn’t really matter.

“Yes, I know, I know. It’s been a minute.” I chuckle lightly, addressing the elephant in the room very cautiously. “This stream isn’t really gonna be that long, I just wanted to talk about all that’s been going on and get you guys into the loop as soon as possible.”

I was already seeing tons of support throughout the chat. Paragraphs of kind words and spamming of hearts amongst other emotes. It made me feel warm in an otherwise cold mindset.

“Fruit Loop.” Sapnap mutters quietly, obviously not being able to help himself.

“You’re so stupid.” George laughs at him, causing him to laugh as well. I feel myself genuinely smile but lack the sound.

My heart was beating just below my chest as frostbite fingers squeezed the ends of my lungs, making my skin want to turn itself inside out. The anxiety from this stream was almost sickening. I wanted to throw up but from  _ plenty _ of experience I knew I was far from it. 

“‘ _ Where have I been?’ _ ? Good question, good question,” I read off chat. “ I’ve been in the- receiving- I’ve been receiving medical attention.” I fumble on my words. I began to say hospital but I didn’t want to scare them so I switched as quickly as I could. I knew for a good handful the damage had already been done.

“” _ What kind?’ _ ? My kisses.” Sapnap reads chat as well and answers.

“You’re so dumb.” I giggle at his idiotic answers but don’t venture further to correct him. It was obviously incorrect, but I really didn’t know how to explain further without revealing too much. “But, don’t worry, guys. I’m doing much better now and should be back to a normal schedule soon.” 

A lie.

“Would be sooner but George won’t give him kisses.” Sapnap complains.

“Yeah, guys, George is being selfish and won’t kiss me better so- so cancel him on Twitter, right now.” I laugh at the demand, playing along.

“What?! No, don’t do that.” George laughs and plays along. “This isn’t fair.”

I checked chat, getting familiar again with my old habits. “Yeah, guys. I need- I need boo boo kisses.” I chuckle throughout my response.

_ ‘Markiplier!’ _

_ ‘MARK’ _

_ ‘Yessss we love Markiplier’ _

“Markiplier? Man, I haven’t heard that name in a while. How’s he doing? Does anyone in chat know?” I comment on the influx of texts.

“What do you mean, dude?” Sapnap chuckles and my smile drops. “He literally just finished Unus Anus.”

Unus Anus. Unus Anus. Why don’t I remember this? They obviously expect me to know this. I knew it was Latin or Greek or something of the sort. 7th grade English class help me now. 

Unus. Un meaning not. Anus. An...also meaning not… No, shit. That’s not right. 

Un as in one. That seems more likely. Anu as in yearly? One year? That makes the most sense. It’s the best I’ve got. Mrs. Lewis would be so disappointed in me.

“Oh, yeah! Those videos he did for a year! I remember,” I chuckle awkwardly.

“Are you Ok, Dream?” George asks with a forced chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. Just been a long day.” I chuckle once again.

I’m not fooling anyone. I know this. I also know that no one is going to call me out on my bullshit—at least not on  _ stream _ .

So, as the stream continues, simple and just, and the pain under my skin grows from the embers in my veins, I remember a single phrase from 7th grade year:

Vincit qui se vincit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback? Suggestions? Ideas?
> 
> BTW, "Vincit qui se vincit." Is Latin for, "He Conquers Who Conquers Himself", hence the chapter title.


	9. Muted Screaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back into the habit of streaming, Dream is quickly overwhelmed beyond what he knows.

“Where are you?” George inquires quickly.

“On my way to check on Tommy, would you care to join?” I offer with a smile apparent in my voice.

“You know what? I think I will,” He smiles back in tone. “Are you in the Nether?”

“Yeah, I’m ‘bout half way down his path. I’ll wait for you.” I explain to him, stopping in my tracks. This gives me time to check the chat and see what’s going on.

_‘Tommmmmmy’_

_‘Does this mean Dreams streaming again?’_

_'WILBUR IS THERE TOO’_

_‘DNF :heart_eyes:’_

I scoff with a little chuckle as the comments go on and on. Sometimes I worry that my viewers take this entire server too seriously, but I’ve made it clear that this is all an act. We’re all just a bunch of friends having fun. That’s it.

“Should we join a vc with Tommy?” George asks.

“Probably. One sec.” I agree, working on moving us both into vc 2, where I see Tommy and Wilbur speaking. 

I hadn’t talked to either since the accident. Well, not _entirely_. They had shown immense support of my tweet and I liked their replies, but nothing beyond that. I felt that all too familiar pinch in my nerves right below my heart that ran static up my spine.

“Hello?” I greet the two.

“Oh, hello!” Wilbur’s voice speaks first. It’s not soft and gentle like it would be for ‘Ghostbur’. He’s himself this time. I’m sure George talked to the both of them beforehand, explaining to them that this stream was meant to be chill, meaning no role playing today.

“Big D! My friend, my friend!” Tommy greets--beyond excited. His voice is slightly loud and rings in my ears, so I turn him down in volume from my end.

“Hello.” I chuckle timidly.

“Whatcha doing, big man?” Tommy asks.

“I’m just- just chilling with George. Headed to see you and Wilbur.” I explain.

“Why?” 

“I dunno.” My words are slurred and my shoulders bounce, “Just to say 'Hi', I guess.”

George finally catches up with me in game and I lead the way silently as we follow the path to Tommy’s base. The British boys all speak happily to each other but I keep my interaction to a minimum. I can already feel the fiery embers of a headache roaring in my skull.

The headache is fueled and flaming with anger, blurring my vision and twisting my head. I begin to slightly spin my mouse as I tilt side to side. George notices this and laughs, making a joke related to something about me being drunk as I slur and chuckle a rejected response. I’m a complete and utter mess.

“Hey, Dream? You Ok?” Wilbur finally speaks up and asks.

“Yeah, yeah. M’fine.” I quickly respond out of habit. “Actually, I might need a minute, hold on.”

Finally being honest, I click the mute button with shaking hands and throw my headset off my head. My mind is spinning and eyes are rolling beyond my control. I can’t tell exactly where I am orientated but I need to ground myself somehow.

“Shit.” I mutter under my breath and grip the table tightly, trying to settle myself. When it doesn’t seem like it’s going to work, I call for help, “Emily!” I call for my younger sister.

“What?!” She yells back.

“Can you- Can you bring the um- me some of the- some- some stuff.” My words are a quick mess and my thoughts are tangled.

“Wait, what?! What’s wrong?” She runs into the room. I can’t exactly pinpoint where she is, I can only muster blurs of color.

“My head is killing me. I can’t- I can’t focus.” I complain, holding my head. 

“Do you want me to go get the Vicodin?” She suggests.

“Yes, please.” I nod.

She runs off and I’m beyond eager to get the pain meds. I stumble out of my chair, almost knocking it over, and make my way to the doorway. I don't know how long this took me, but by the time I'm at the entrance my sister is already back with a pill and a glass of water.

"Here you go." She hands them to me.

"You're a lifesaver, Em." I smile and quickly swallow the pillow down before throwing my back against the wall and sliding down to the floor to calm down. The meds should kick in soon. 

I feel movement around me but ignore it as it's Emily doing something I could care less about. Although, she decides otherwise.

"Clay?" She grabs my attention.

"What?" 

"You didn't end your stream?" She points out. This doesn't worry me.

"I know. Can you end it for me? I'll explain something to the viewers later." I wave off her observation.

"Ok." And with a few clicks I assume she is done. "How do I get rid of the green circle around your profile picture?"

My eyes shoot up at her, "The _what_?!"

"The green circle around you? How do I get rid of it?"

"Emily, the microphone at the bottom, is there a red slash through it?" My heart is beating outside of my chest.

"No, you're fine. It's working." She smiles as if this makes it better 

" _Fuck_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't use Discord, a green circle around your profile picture often indicates the sound of your end is being picked up in your microphone; meaning people can hear you.
> 
> Feedback?


	10. Whoops

This story is a great way for me to exercise my writing creativity as an outlet. I have all the chapters laid out and all the twists and secrets, but this story has fallen to close to the line of writing about the _actual_ people instead of the character personas they each play online and that idea makes me slightly uncomfortable.

Until I can figure out a way around this, (perhaps a quick and brief rewrite?) I don’t want to update the chapters. I know the DT has stated _they_ don’t mind such things, although I’m just not down for it. If y’all got any suggestions lmk.

Stay safe, y’all. :D


End file.
